


The Third of Three

by Elenius



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenius/pseuds/Elenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In battle, he has become calculated and ruthless. He has killed and killed, but he cannot kill all of Rome. Post-canon, Spartacus/Nasir-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third of Three

**Author's Note:**

> Because Tumblr has been throwing all sorts of Spartacus/Nasir hints around lately, and finally hit me. Not quite shippy, but not very far removed.

This is what Spartacus knows of the man who has stood at his side this past year:

That Nasir sometimes reaches out in his sleep for the empty spot beside him.

That the jagged scar he has borne for months at the juncture of neck and shoulder hinders movement and bothers him more than he lets on.

That he speaks with Saxa in the smattering of German he has learned, because it brings her comfort. They are the only ones left who know something of it.

That Nasir wishes some measure of comfort for himself, but it cannot be given. The source of it was buried near Garganus by Nasir’s own hands, without words or rites, only a press of lips upon cold lips to carry Agron to the afterlife.

That Tiberius still haunts him and, in moments of weakness, Nasir latches onto the memory of that past life. Petty and frightened though Tiberius was, he knew of survival what Nasir must again learn on his own.

You are fortunate, he tells Spartacus, to have known the names of those you wished vengeance upon. In battle, he has become calculated and ruthless. He has killed and killed, but he cannot kill all of Rome.

And Spartacus has learned enough of the man who has stood at his side this past year to know that he cannot offer but words. It will become easier, he says. In time.

He means: you will forget. The look of him, the sound of his voice. They will blur and slip from your grasp one day, become a treasured memory of uncertain shape. This you cannot fight against. You will forget, as I have, and never quite forgive yourself for it.

 


End file.
